No Real Reason
by Kikyz
Summary: It wasn't everyday that he allowed her to seduce him.Just like it wasn't everyday that he found her quirks humorous and sexy.He didn't really understand her…or this so-called chemistry between them.-oneshot-


It's dark.  
He turns, glancing down at her as she sleeps. She had bundled herself under the covers, and only her head could be seen. Her soft breaths tickles his arm, as she uses it as a pillow. He eases his arm free, sitting up in the bed. The clock on the nightstand had been broken for weeks, forever flashing 12:00 a.m. in neon green. Why hadn't he trashed that damn thing? He looks over at the window, which is completely covered by a thick curtain. No light shined through it, but he's still uncertain if it's late or really early. Then again, he honestly didn't care too much. He looks back down at her.

Her white face makeup is all but speared off. Her lips are still plump and pink from the bruising kisses. The once flushed skin of her neck had returned back to its original creamy pigment…All except the red blotch where he had sucked and gnawed.

It wasn't everyday that he _allowed_ her to seduce him. Just like it wasn't everyday that he found her quirks humorous and sexy, instead of the usual pestering and annoying.

In truth, he didn't really understand her…or this so-called chemistry between them. He had only been using her. First to get out of Arkham, and now as a lackey/side kick of sorts. He had told himself that he would rid himself of her, the moment she becomes useless. When that day will arrive, he'll never know. There had been plenty of times he could have ditch her. Even more opportunities to just kill her, and be done with it. But he hadn't. Sure, there were times when he came close to leaving her behind, but simply changed his mind. And sometimes, when he got hot mad over Bats or when her constant babbling scratch at his nerves, he would grab her. He would slam her hard against a wall, and she'd gasp as the wind is knocked out of her. And, for a split second, fear would cross her eyes. He'd think about wrapping his hands about her neck, enjoying the idea of watching the life leave her blue eyes. Then he'd remember how she smiled at him in his cell, back in Arkham, when he tried to strangle her for the first time…No, that was the second time. The first time was when she first came into his room unsupervised, saying she understood him and spewing other nonsense to him. He had rather enjoyed the panic look about her face as he wringed her neck…Yes, it was definitely the second time around that she had smiled. She had just declared her love for him a moment before. It had been that moment, that smile, that confounded him. The smile angered him more, yet he couldn't help but laugh at her. It was just too comical. A psychiatrist in love with her homicidal patient.  
And by the time he thought over all of this, his anger would have passed. She'd be released form his grip, and he'd go on about his day.

He now runs a finger through his green hair, trying to remember if he had ordered his goons to set up the bombs around Gotham today. In truth, the bombs will only lead to an explosion of confetti, but it will be fun to watch Batman sweat. He's certain he'll get a good laugh out of it. However, he didn't move out of bed to make good on his plans for the day. Mainly because sunlight has yet to peak through the curtain. Though a small part of him wants to stay in bed for a completely different reason.

Again, he looks at her, still deep in slumber. Her golden locks sprawls about her, like a halo. She looks peaceful…Beautiful even. He imagines how beautiful she'll be if her chest ceased moving, blood splattered over her still body… He shook his head, finding something wrong with the mental image. He isn't sure as to what, but it left a strange feeling in his gut. His eyes roll downwards to the mark on her neck. He remembered how she mewled in painful pleasure when he'd bitten into the raw flesh. _"Mista' J!" _She moaned, clawing his back. He'd thrust into her, harder with each stroke until she moaned his name again. His tongue had swirled around her chest, working its way up to her neck to suckle the fresh wound. The taste of sweat and iron still lingers on his tongue. Her tight heat squeezed him when her third orgasm crashed over her. He had cursed under his breath, as he felt himself teetering the edge. She'd quickly took hold of his face, forcing him to kiss her again…

He sighs, easing his way back under the covers. It's obvious now that it's still nighttime, and morning won't be here for a while. And besides, he's starting to get cold.

The warmth of her soft, naked body under the sheets feels comforting. He cozy ups to her, draping an arm around her frame. He tells himself that it's just for her body heat. He snuggles closer, burying his face in her hair.


End file.
